Control
by I'mJustMeMyselfandI
Summary: Daniel's first panic attack happens when he's nine. There's a reason he's such a control freak. Oneshot.


His first panic attack happens when he is nine years old.

He is a neat child, and since it causes no problems his busy parents ignore the fact that his food can't touch and that he gets oddly agitated if something is out of place. At school he is given the nickname "Control Freak." It doesn't bother him, it is a compliment even if the other children don't mean it to be. To him, it means that everything will go according to the way he wants it. Until suddenly it doesn't.

He doesn't quite remember what started it, all he can remember is thinking _wrong, wrong, wrong_ as his breath quickens unnaturally and he feels like he's having a heart attack, his hands are trembling and he is far too dizzy to stay standing.

After it's over, psychiatrists use phrases like _OCD_ and _Panic Disorder_. He isn't sure what they mean, but suddenly his parents pay more attention to him and everything is fine- until the second time.

He has just turned ten and there is a surprise party- he supposes now that maybe his parents forgot that he had just been diagnosed with a condition that could be aggravated with undue stress- and when the guests jump out at him he starts to feel nauseas. A few minutes into the party and he has to go to his room. The feeling of the heart attack is there, along with the hyperventilation and the dizziness, but now he is trembling and dry heaving as well.

He stays in his room for the rest of the night.

When he goes to another psychiatrist, he is far less trusting (because the other did nothing so why should he expect anything else?). So, when he is suggested to do something uncontrollable, he chooses stage magic. They are both happy with the decision because while the psychiatrist (whom Danny seriously questions the intelligence of) thinks it is about changing what happens at the drop of a hat, Danny knows better. Stage magic, or at least the good kind, is planned out to the last detail. It suits him.

When high school comes around, he is still practicing magic and he is still having panic attacks. He doesn't get them at school (except for that one time where the teachers went on strike and there were so many people and he didn't know what to do and all he could think was _wrongwrongwrong_), he thinks this is because school follows a set routine that doesn't really change.

When he is almost seventeen, he discovers that sex helps. Maybe because it is an oddly controlled way of letting go, but he doesn't care as long as screwing someone every so often keeps him from having any major panic attacks.

He graduates valedictorian in his high school. It isn't really a big accomplishment as all the people in his class are idiots, but his parents are proud anyway, "especially considering your… condition."

He decides to not go to college.

His first year as a street magician is harrowing, the city is dangerous and he has more panic attacks since having sex for the first time, but it is expected and he falls into a routine to deal with it. Performing magic for a crowd, at the end of the month making sure he has enough money to pay for food and rent (and sometimes he uses not-exactly-legal methods because of the lack of crowds, but money is money and he makes sure not to get caught), and usually getting laid to prevent having a panic attack (but sometimes he doesn't have sex, and that is when things are truly frightening, because he does end up getting a panic attack at some point and being helpless like that is the worst kind of nightmare anyway without the fact that he's alone, too). His second year is cut short by a job offer. He sees no reason to refuse, and accepts.

He quickly realizes the biggest problem with a professional gig: the assistant. Rebecca can do every trick, but she's dull, and it's harder to keep the audience engaged. Henley is the opposite. She's all charm and wit, but she can't always fit where Rebecca could, which limits the tricks he's able to perform (and while he can admit it's not completely her fault, he'll never say that out loud). It is at the end of his fourth year as a stage magician that he realizes that, even though he hasn't had sex, he hasn't had a panic attack the whole while as a professional, and in the same week Henley leaves. Without her, he is forced back into street magic.

It's not an awful routine to get back into. Small things, card tricks and such, and impress women with the bigger tricks. Get laid, prevent panic attack. It's all very logical. Until, three years in, the invitation arrives.

He brings the woman he impressed into his apartment (it's not much, but she isn't there to look at his things), and everything is progressing as planned- and then he sees the card on the table, and it's _wrongwrongwrong_ except maybe it's not and he's asking the woman (whose name he doesn't remember) to leave so he can fix the _wrongness_ in his room (and maybe his life, too).

The card motif is The Lovers. He's not sure if it's a jab at him, or if whoever gave him the card doesn't know about the panic attacks. He's guessing it's the latter, because everyone who's known about his "condition" treats it like a disability (and he tries to ignore the small part of him that agrees with them).

Things go a bit downhill when he sees Henley. It's actually a bit nice to see her, even if she knows he left the comments on her website (because she doesn't know about the panic attacks and if he can help it she never will), but it means the invitation isn't just him. His sentiments are echoed aloud by the mentalist (who he not-so-privately thinks is an ass), but not by Henley or his fan (and he's maybe just a little flattered, but he won't tell the kid that, especially since the kid reminds him, just a little, of himself). That doesn't mean they aren't thinking it, though.

His disappointment is forgotten when the holograms appear and a new world opens up to him. They will be the best, and no one will forget them. For a blissful month of planning, the panic attacks don't matter and he doesn't get any, maybe through sheer willpower, but whatever it is he is grateful because he isn't sure what will happen if (_when_, a voice whispers in the back of his mind, _you know it's only a matter of time_. He ignores it even though it's probably right) the rest of the group finds out about them.

And then, a month and three days after meeting for the first time, he snaps.

He knows it will happen the moment he wakes up. The nausea is already there, and he is already slightly short of breath. He forces himself not to worry, tells himself that this was expected. And really, it was. It was an accumulation of the little things, he supposed. The apartment they all share is cramped, and everything is in a hodgepodge mess that doesn't even have a semblance of order. Living with other people screws with his routine but he can't complain too much because then they will know (and they will now anyway unless he can get out of there), and maybe he is being childish, but he doesn't want them to treat him differently. Those were the biggest things, but there were enough little things that he's honestly a bit surprised it hadn't come sooner.

As he gets out of bed, he sways a little. Just great. He needs to leave before anyone sees him. He'll figure out an excuse for it later.

Unfortunately, Henley and Jack are having breakfast in the kitchen as he walks in, and can barely hear their greetings as he stumbles over to dry heave in the sink from the smell of the food. He can hear their voices, make out things like "Oh god," or maybe it was "What's wrong?"- he can't really hear very well right now. He's certain he hears Henley's heels go slightly away and "Merritt, get over-" except he's dry heaving again (and when did he get on the floor?), and he _can't breathe_.

In the back of his mind, he curses the fact that his partners are finding out about his… condition… with one of the worst attacks he's ever had.

But then someone (Henley? No, Merritt) takes one of his trembling hands to get his attention.

"Hey, uh, Daniel? Danny? Danny, it's gonna be fine. On the count of three, you're going to calm down, and when I snap my fingers you're going to be just fine and explain what's happening." And dammit, he doesn't want the mentalist in his head but he's already counting and suddenly he's… alright. Not totally fine, but he's functional. He starts explaining before he realizes words are coming out of his mouth.

He keeps his eyes firmly focused on the floor as the words tumble out of his mouth, but he can feel the other three as they stare at him. Will they treat him the same after this? No, he thinks, of course not. His _parents_ didn't treat him the same way after they got him diagnosed, why should they?

He's just at the end of his explanation now, and his eyes are still fixed on one of the wooden panels of the floor. He's not embarrassed, exactly, but he isn't looking forward to the new perspectives they have of him.

A hand grips his chin and pulls his head to face them. Surprisingly enough, the hand belongs to Jack.

"Oi. Danny. We're not gonna treat you differently, you know? This is more like an explanation of the things you already do. There's nothing to change." Jack says it so sincerely it's hard to not believe him, but it's hard to comprehend the easy acceptance (too easy, why is it so _easy_?). So he files it away to reflect on later, and focuses on the simplest thing to reply to.

"My name is Daniel, not Danny," he says with a disdainful sniff (which may or may not be somewhat put upon), "Honestly, you should all at least remember that." From the grins he sees, he has a feeling he will be called 'Danny' quite a bit in the future.

He doesn't really mind, though.

It's not until later he realizes it's the first time he hasn't minded not being in control.

He doesn't mind that, either.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is much appreciated, reviews make me happy. Very happy. :D


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